


To Share is Precious, Pure and Fair

by ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Get Together, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones isn't much for partying tonight. Too bad Jim won't take no for an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Share is Precious, Pure and Fair

**Author's Note:**

> For space_wrapped.
> 
> It's very short, but you know sometimes that's better.
> 
> The title is taken from [the title track of the Marvin Gaye album](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyIUR9l5pWI) referenced in the fic. The factoid about him is in fact true, btw. 
> 
> The song Jim plays on repeat is ["Fall in Love" by Phantogram](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W97JLBc7C8k). 
> 
> BTW if you're not sure, a pick up party is where everyone comes stag and picks up a date during the party. They…tend to not end well for people attending who are already in relationships. Also mention of prior Bones/Carol.
> 
> Beta'ed as always by maypirate.
> 
> Hope you like it. Happy Holidays if you celebrate.

After working a double, the last thing Bones wanted was to head to the main hall on the _Enterprise_ for the giant party Jim was hosting.

He entertained the notion, sure, but after five minutes of deliberation, Woodford Reserve in his quarters with the lights low and his favorite records seemed vastly preferable. Less crowded, more private, happier…just overall _better_ in every capacity.

So he went home.

He put on his favorite thick oatmeal-colored sweater and a pair of comfortable jeans, slipped on his beat up too-broken-in slippers, and queued up “I Want You.”

Yeah, okay, that album was written about a fifteen year old, but no one ever claimed Marvin Gaye was a saint.

The time when the album started had been going on ten PM Ship Standard Time.

His door buzzer rang four songs into the album.

He ignored it.

Bones curled up on the floor, his back against his bed, humming along with the bass. He held the aforementioned liquor in his hand, staring into its amber depths. For a second he contemplated taking a shot straight out of the bottle, but then he decided some civility was in order to mark the occasion.

He stood, shaking a cramp out of his right foot as he wandered into his living area. The one thing he insisted on bringing with him from his apartment in Sausalito to the _Enterprise_ was his antique brass bar cart. Scotty, bless him, had bolted it down without damaging it in the event of angry Romulans, epic space battles, and other such bullshit.

On it sat his crystal tumblers, and he grabbed one, making certain it was clean before carting it back to his bedroom. He refused to let the freshers touch them, and sometimes he missed spots.

He had selected the most pristine of the pristine when he heard someone clear his throat.

Bones sighed, because there was only one person on this entire ship who’d break into his quarters. 

Why couldn’t it wait? At least until after midnight, for shit’s sake.

“You pulled a no-show,” Jim said. 

“I did,” Bones said without turning to look at him. “Wasn’t feeling it.”

Jim didn’t comment as Bones padded back from the living and dining area to his bed. He set the glass and the bottle on the bedside table, opting this time to flop on his back while kicking off the slippers. One thudded on the floor, the other landing haphazardly across the room who the fuck knew where. The sound of footsteps followed him, and he sighed, rolling over to face the wall with his back to Jim.

As dutifully trained as Jim was, he sat on the mattress and took off his shoes. They dropped onto what passed for the ship’s carpeting. Bones peered over his shoulder at Jim’s back; he could make out the blue of his suit jacket, but that was it. In one of Jim’s hands sat a glittering domino mask, as the party was both masquerade and pick up themed. 

Bones sighed and went back to facing the wall.

They sat like that in silence as the album ended. It edged on too much for Bones to take, so he decided to queue up “Let’s Get It On.” Before he could, Jim spoke. “Computer, load media file ‘Voices’.”

_Searching…there are several files with that name._

“Phantogram,” Jim specified.

_Searching…one moment._

The music started, the alt-rock Jim preferred. A track played, violins progressing into harder riffs and melodies. Jim sighed, lying on his back next to Bones close enough to touch. 

Bones sighed again.

Jim cleared his throat for the second time. “So. You were supposed to be there.”

“Wasn’t up to it.”

Jim didn’t reply immediately, but when he did, his voice was plaintive and a bit scared. “I…kind of really needed you to be there.”

“The day you need me at a party is the day where I eat my hat,” Bones said.

“Which one? You collect them but never wear any,” Jim said.

“The point isn’t wearing them, the point is appreciating haberdashery as an art form,” Bones said. “And the red bowler.”

Jim sucked in air through his teeth. “That’s your favorite.”

“Yes, which means you should know how serious I am,” Bones continued.

Jim didn’t answer. “I still needed you to show tonight.”

“Why?” Bones curled further up in on himself, hugging his knees while pressing them into his chest. “It’s a fucking pick up party. Go pick someone up. You know how much I hate being a fucking wingman.”

“I had one specific person I wanted to pick up,” Jim said. 

His heart dropping like a lead weight into his stomach, Bones squeezed his eyes shut. “So go back and pick them up.”

Jim growled, which startled Bones enough to open his eyes. “It is a bit difficult to pick someone up when they, for absolutely zero fucking reason, _do not show up for the pick up party_.”

Oh.

Bones let go of his knees, stretching back out into something more approaching _grown man_ and less _five year old in time out_.

Jim sighed, and Bones could feel how tense he was next to him.

“Not interested,” Bones managed to mumble.

“Computer, repeat track ‘Fall in Love’,” Jim said. The song with the violins started over, and this time Bones caught some of the words.

_Fall…_  
_In me._  
_I’ll let…_  
_You breathe._

“You’re full of shit,” Jim said.

“Oh come on,” Bones said.

“You are. You’re so full of shit.” Jim rolled over onto the side to face him, and against his will, Bones did the same. “We’ve been dancing the fucking Masochism Tango for _six years_. I’ve had enough, and for the life of me, I have no idea how you can possibly be okay with this shit. With a fucking holding pattern.”

“I’m not your fucking Risan showgirls,” Bones said.

Jim closed his eyes and exhaled loudly; there was no other way to put it, it went well beyond a sigh. Bones took the opportunity to take in his outfit. 

And it was probably the best Jim had ever looked, which was saying a lot.

Blue suit, blue and white shirt, blue and orange pocket square, orange tie that coordinated with but did not match the pocket square. The outfit had been tailored to perfection, and it was actually a three-piece suit now that Bones noticed. 

This had to have been planned months in advance.

Oh there it was. 

Guilt. 

How lovely to see it again.

“Awful lot of trouble for one night,” Bones said.

Now Jim pursed his lips. “Either you secretly think I’m scum, or you’re a fucking idiot, and right now I cannot for the life of me tell which is preferable.”

“If you’re gonna insult me, you can show yourself out,” Bones said. However, both of them could hear the lack of…anything in his words. It was the emptiest of all possible threats any human could ever make.

“We’re apparently going with you being too dumb to live,” Jim said with another growl.

“How am I the one that’s stupid?” Bones said. “It’s a fucking pick up party, not a propose marriage party.”

The way Jim’s face turned red coupled with the copious amount of pain in his eyes made Bones realize maybe he was, in fact, too dumb to live.

Jim’s eyes hardened, glittering like ice in the light. “The whole reason…the literal entire reason I orchestrated this party…the _entire fucking point of it being a pick up party_ …was to give me the courage to finally _do_ something.”

Surprise prevented Bones from speaking, but even more so did the shame.

“I am tired of this, Bones. I am… _so tired_ ,” Jim continued. “I’m tired of pretending that taking someone else home for the night is enough. I’m tired of seeing the way your eyes dart away from mine so I don’t catch you looking. I’m tired of the dreams, these really happy fucking dreams that crush me when I wake because that’s all they are.”

Bones rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“But above everything, I am just…I am _so tired_ of running away from you, when this whole time I should have been running _toward_ you.”

Bones clenched his hands at his sides.

Jim edged closer, a minute amount Bones could only tell from their proximity and the rustling of his duvet. 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I wasn’t going to give you a ring or get down on one knee tonight, but that stuff’s nothing but minor technicalities. I _did_ plan on making it clear that I’m never letting you go.”

The song continued to repeat in the background.

Swallowing, Bones’ voice was hoarse. “You say that...”

“I do.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jim shift back to frustration. “What, you think one day I’m gonna wake up and think you’ve wrecked my life?”

“Considering I ruin everything I touch,” Bones said. “It only took six weeks for Carol and I to implode.”

“That wasn’t fun to watch,” Jim admitted. “Although honestly, I didn't want it to succeed, so I was basically living in a guilt-fueled sneaky hate spiral for that period, but I think that happened less you because of you being toxic and more because the two of you aren’t right for each other.”

Bones frowned. “And what makes you think you’re right?”

“About what?”

“No, I mean…” Bones sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “Right for me. Why do you think you’re the right one for me?”

“Six years,” Jim said. “Six years with relatively minor collateral damage. Six years of fitting, getting each other, making each other laugh, being there for the bad days, closing out the nights with a drink, knowing likes and dislikes and favorites and can’t abides and must haves. Six years of living in each other’s bloodstreams.”

Bones sighed.

“Six years of everything except being happy.” Jim edged closer again, the tip of his pinky tracing the curved line of Bones’ index finger. “We should be, and we deserve to be happy. There’s no point in hiding from each other. It just…it hurts.”

“It’s a risk,” Bones said. 

“A calculated one,” Jim countered. “Remember how I don’t believe in no-win scenarios? Well us doing what we are, having all of these feelings and doing fuck-all about them…that’s losing, Bones. Not trying is the only real failure.”

Bones turned his face to meet Jim’s eyes. There was so much in them, illuminating them like those old-fashioned neon signs all over Vegas. Love, truth, grace, a bit of fury…

The song paused. _User Alarm set for twenty-three hundred hours, fifty-nine minutes. One minute remaining._

Jim’s eyes shimmered a bit, his mouth forming a tentative, bashful smile Bones had never seen before. The world was in it, laid bare for him.

_Thirty seconds._

Bones shifted his hand, relaxing his fist. He twisted his wrist a bit, laying it palm up. 

_Ten seconds…five…four…three…two…_

He laced his fingers in between Jim’s, giving them a squeeze.

_Happy Terran New Year, Doctor McCoy._


End file.
